I faintly remember a poem that my grandpa used to recite–by Longfellow. Something about all lives needing days that are dark and dreary.

But good grief, enough is enough. When the kids and I walked out to the car this morning Shelby mentioned that it was hard to remember the sun. It’s true—it seems like we’ve had thick clouds forever.

We took a stark walk this afternoon. The woods are silently beautiful in a deserted sort of way.

Maybe we do need November days, dark and dreary–maybe we ought to savor them.